


Soap Snowflakes and Dreidel Sweaters

by RobotPhantom



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, M/M, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-21
Updated: 2014-12-21
Packaged: 2018-03-02 16:19:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2818469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RobotPhantom/pseuds/RobotPhantom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>or "Tucker's super awesome plan to get Church and Caboose to fucking Kiss already"</p>
<p>Based on a prompt by tumblr user synnesai on tumblr with Tucker and the Reds scheming to get Church and Caboose to kiss under the mistletoe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Soap Snowflakes and Dreidel Sweaters

  “I don't know, Spin the bottle?”

“Yeah man, maybe afterword we can braid each others hair and talk about which one of the freelancers we think is cutest.” Tucker gave the meatpuzzled Red a light punch in the head. “Fuck no, dude. We need something cooler that that.”

“Just trying to think of ideas.” Grif muttered.

“Whatever.”

That had been the pattern of conversation among Tucker and the Reds for several days. All attempts at the same plan. A plan that had to be absolutely perfect. Or, y'know, _good_. Tucker would settle for good at this point. Right now the assembled list included a torn corner (Donut, who had to spit out his gum) and a title.

**Tucker's super awesome plan to get Church and Caboose to fucking kiss already.**

That was it. Apparently “Matchmaking” wasn't in anyone's job description.

“I still think my plan would have worked.” Simmons mumbled behind his book.

“Yeah, and I just happen to have a gallon of pig pheromones lying around. Where the fuck am I gonna find pigs?” Tucker chuckled. “Well, 'cept Grif.”

“Not even offended.” Grif chimed, barely raising his hand from the back of the couch.

“Dammit Grif! Stand up for yourself. You're a disappointment to the Red team!”

“I thought you weren't gonna bother us.” Grif groaned. “I mean, there's a _Blue_ in here.”

Tucker waved. “Sup sarge?”

Sarge gave Tucker a nod from where he loomed in the doorway. “Pleasure, Captain Tucker.” He turned his leer back to Grif. “I said I wasn't gonna bother with this ridiculous plan the bunch of ya' were comin in with. This is _my_ base you ingrates are havin' this meeting in. I think I have a right to eavesdrop if I damn well please.”

“Sarge has a p-”

“Kiss ass.” Tucker and Grif snapped in unison. The pair high-fived, Simmons tried to hide himself further behind his book.

“And besides!” Sarge strode into the room and picked up the notebook where Tucker had planned to write the plan and looked it over. “Looks like you fellas are in need of a plan.”

“Sure, if y' got one.” Tucker said, falling defeated onto the couch next to Grif and Simmons.

“Got one? You bet you're skinny blue behind I got a plan.” He threw the notebook at Tucker and snapped his fingers. “Now, I'm gonna need all hands for this plan Men. So listen close...”

 

*

Things were quiet around Blue base.

Almost too quiet, considering how often Caboose talked to himself.

Church hadn't been too worried. Tucker had probably sent Caboose off “Caroling” to the Red base or something else in the spirit of the season. Church had appreciated that, if only because explaining Chanukah to Caboose proved to be difficult even _with_ picture books. (It had, however, lead to a light blue sweater with a dredel on it showing up in his locker. Apparently something had stuck.)

What worried him was the _other_ thing in his locker this morning. A note with instructions. Very...specific instructions.

If he was honest he knew Simmons had written it, but he'd give 'em the benefit of a doubt. Probably cheaper than a real Christmas gift anyways, and a way better idea than a fruit arrangement.

He had gotten to step four and a half, which involved being outside of the base at “exactly 4:35 PM”. Which seemed like a stupid designation, it never really got dark.

He wasn't going to argue with Simmons though. Especially when Simmons wasn't even there to argue with.

Church stood outside, hands stuffed in his pockets. He rocked back on his heels and sighed. This was probably something stupid, and he was just gonna end up looking like an asshole out in the snow in a dumb dreidel sweater-

Church blinked and looked up.

Flakes of white were definitely falling from the sky, which didn't look any different than it usually did, except for the snow falling from it. Church stuck out his tongue, and immidetly regretted it when a flake touched his lips. Soap.

“Ohhhhhhh my _gosh_.”

Church turned around. Apparently Caboose couldn't tell the difference between soap and snow, and was tilting his whole torso to try and get a mouthful. Church smiled. He was a fucking moron.

“Hey, hey Caboose” He grabbed him by the shoulder, yanking him upright. “Maybe don't eat this, o- _kay_ what the fuck is on your head?”

Caboose looked at him, confused. Which wasn't new.

Church grabbed the green leaf-on-a-spring that had seemingly sprouted from the top of Caboose's head and bent it down so it was between his eyes.

“Ohhh that! Yeah um...the scary robot on Red team cursed me.”

Church let go of the leaf and tried very hard not to laugh as it whipped back in forth.

“Church!” Caboose yelped, looking scared. “Don't laugh. It's a curse _what if I die.”_

Church kept trying to stifle his laughter. “It's _pffft_ probably fine Caboose. What did...wait was this Lopez or Simmons?”

Caboose tilted his head.

“Y'know what, nevermind. How do we uncurse you.”

Caboose took a second. He hummed and scratched at his head. After a minute he looked up at the roof of the base behind Church and yelled

“LINE?”

“CABOOSE we went _over this_.” Tucker's voice shouted from behind Church, presumably from atop Blue base. “The curse can only be broken if someone kisses you. Fuck it I told Sarge this wouldn't work....”

“I'm telling you, Pig pheromones.” Said Simmons, slightly further back.

“Shut up and keep loading your soap rations into the snow machine.” Tucker snapped. “Just kiss him Church! Do you want him to suffer?”

“I do not want to sleep with this thing growing out of my head.” Caboose added, completely serious. “What if it has _babies_.”

Church turned to glare up at Tucker, who gave him a double pistol and a wink, and turned back to Caboose.

“A'ight, so you need me to break this curse?”

Caboose nodded.

“You're sure? You can't get Donut to do it?”

Another nod.

“Hurry it up, dude! We're running out of soap.” Tucker shouted.

Church looked at Caboose, to the stupid piece of mistletoe on his head, and back.

He swallowed once, exhaled at least three times, and swore on every variation of God he could come up with that he'd make Tucker clean every piece of equipment in the base if this went badly about seven times before finally

_finally_

He grabbed Caboose around the waist and pulled him into a kiss. Nothing fancy. Maybe it was a few seconds too long, and maybe he lingered for a second, but definitely no tongue.

Caboose didn't let go of him.

“Um...Caboose you're free now. You can um....”

Caboose was staring at his chest. Eyes wide, cheeks bright red.

“Whats up? There something on my-....oh.”

Church had forgotten about the sweater.

“You liked my sweater!” Caboose said, excited. He sounded almost breathless. “And um...thanks for breaking the curse...also.” He stepped back and kept his eyes on the ground. “That was nice of you.”

Church rubbed the back of his neck and tried to keep his eyes on the last few soap flakes that fell from the sky. “Yeah um...anytime bud. I mean um...fuck.”

He was suddenly _very_ aware of how close Caboose was standing to him, and how there was a hand on his shoulder now...and suddenly he was being kissed again. 

 


End file.
